It's too late to apologize (except it probably isn't)
by esgal-galad
Summary: The Alphas are coming and Derek has no way to stop them. Well, he does, but, really, he'd rather not. Or, where Derek has to woo Stiles, because that's totally never been done.
1. Prologue

First fic ever. In fact I can't remember ever writing fiction that wasn't for school. I'm sure this is sickeningly trope-ish (is that a word?), but we all have to start somewhere.

I am very much open to constructive criticism. Un-beta'd because I don't have one of those.

I am pretending that season 3 doesn't exist on a few different levels. One of those levels is this story.

* * *

"Erica and Boyd will survive, but they will take some time to heal. It would have been easy for the Alphas to kill them. This is clearly a message, and I think you already realize that it's only going to get worse from here unless you do something." Deaton tells Derek as he finishes his work on the two unconscious werewolves lying on his exam table and moves to the sink to wash his hands.

"Unless I _do_ something? I'm doing all I can to keep people from dying. If you have any suggestions, I'm…" Derek flinches as he cuts himself off.

"Well, since you're _finally_ open to suggestions, I'm only aware of one way that the pack will become stable and powerful enough to deter or defeat the Alphas. It's the same possibility you've been aware of and doing your best to ignore from the beginning."

"We both know that's not really a possibility." Derek sighs, as though this conversation he's been avoiding desperately is one they've had many times.

"What _I_ know is that the only thing making it impossible is your refusal to pursue it." As usual, Deaton sounds as though his vague statements are precise instructions that the listener is deliberately trying to not understand. It's the first time that's actually been true.

"As though my decision's the only thing keeping it from happening. You said yourself that he doesn't trust me at all, and you think he loves me?"

"I knew you realized that I wasn't talking about Scott. And he doesn't love you. It's not instinctual for humans. You have to put the work in. but your wolf wouldn't have chosen him as your mate if he couldn't feel the same way about you."

"I'm pretty there's no amount of work that will get him there from hating me now."

"He doesn't hate you. I'm beginning to believe that he's incapable of hating anyone. He doesn't trust you. You haven't given him the opportunity to. You threaten and assault him every time you interact with him. You never tell him what's happening."

"This is the most I've ever heard you talk."

"We've already established that you deliberately ignore me when I'm not specific and direct." The '_about how you're being an idiot'_ seems to be clearly implied.

"Since you're in such a sharing mood, you want to tell me how the hell I'm supposed to go about getting someone I've spent my time threatening and assaulting to fall in love with me? I'm not the best with people."

Deaton flashes him a wry grin. "You don't say. The best advice I can give you is you is that you might want to start by apologizing." The bell over the front door rings. As Deaton goes through to the reception area, he has one last thing to say. "How you go about wooing him after that is on you."

"Wooing?"


	2. Chapter 1

As soon as Scott is in the jeep to go to school, Stiles shoves an empty green greeting card envelope at him that has 'Stiles' scribbled across the front and had been ripped open. "Who do you smell on this?"

"What?"

"Just smell it!"

"Jeez, man, fine." Stiles can't even tell that he breathes in. "It smells like you and…Derek? Why did Derek give you an envelope? Is he threatening you to get you to help him again?"

"I haven't even seen him. I woke up to this sitting on my desk." Stiles says as he hands Scott a card. "It's his signature, but I assumed someone had to be fucking with me. I can't believe he's actually the one that left it."

The card has a baby bird with big eyes and "I'm sorry for hurting you" in comic sans. He opens it, and the inside is blank except for Derek's name. Including his middle name. Like he was signing a tax return.

"What did Derek do to you?"

"Nothing! Or…well…nothing recently. Or too recently. Let's just say you're fully up to date on the bruises I've had with Derek's name on them." He glances down from the road to look dubiously at the steering wheel.

"Maybe he's planning to hurt you more than usual and he's apologizing in advance?" Scott speculates.

"Man, I don't know how you manage to say something that horrible while looking like a puppy and sounding like an optimist."

Stiles is screwing around on his computer that night when he feels a draft coming in from the window that he knows he closed. He knows that means someone's in his room. And that the someone is probably Derek. For some reason, processing all of this in the second it takes him to turn does nothing to prevent him from screaming like a girl and tipping backwards in his chair when he spots the creeper leaning against his wall as though it was…well, like it was somewhere he had a right to be comfortable and not _the wall of a teenager's room he'd just broken into_.

As Stile falls backward he begins to wonder how many times this is going to happen before he actually has a heart attack. Then he begins to wonder if Dr. Deaton will give him Mountain Ash to put in his window. That makes him wonder if there's some way to make an exception for Scott. There has to be, right? Peter wasn't able to go through the front of the vet clinic, and Scott _works_ there. Lastly, Stiles wonders why his head hasn't made painful, painful contact with his floor yet.

As he pries his eyes open Stiles sees Derek glaring at him and holding the chair, only just keeping him from hitting the ground under him. "Dude! Nice catch."

Derek, as usual, glares at him. "You need to learn to be careful."

"You need to learn to use doors. Or, you know, just not scare the crap out of me. Besides, since when do you care about me getting hurt?"

Something flashes across Derek's face, but he quickly schools it back into his default look, equal parts homicidal, annoyed, and bitchy. "I've protected you from harm."

"No, you've saved my life a few times, and that's awesome, but you haven't really seemed to care if I get hurt. You've actually shown no aversion to causing me pain, either in your direct, to the point way of slamming me against walls and doors or, because variety is the spice of life, indirectly via werewolfesses and car parts. She-wolves? Lady-warewolves? Women…"

Derek rolls his eyes and lets go of the chair and Stiles head made a thud as it dropped the short distance and connected with his floor.

"Dude! Ow! Great way to show me how safe I am with you." Stiles complains as he gets off the floor and rights the chair.

"I apologized for those other times. And don't call me dude."

"So that card was for the times you've hurt me before? Scott thought…"

Derek cuts him off "You showed it to Scott? That was personal."

"It was a greeting card with your signature. You could have at least written something if it was meant to make up for all of the times you've hit me."

"Well I sent you an e-card first, but you never opened it."

"No you didn't….wait, how would you know if I opened it?"

There's a pause. Derek looks shifty. Well, shiftier than he always does. "My email program told me."

"Email doesn't work like that."

Derek looks even more uncomfortable. Is he blushing? "Um, well…" He pulls his phone, which has made no noise, out of his pocket "Oh, I've gotta take this. I'll see you later." He actually runs and then jumps when he's about four feet from the window and then sails through it.

Stiles hears a thud from what he assumes was a less than graceful landing.

Well. That was even weirder than usual.

He goes back over to his computer and pulls up his spam folder and finds an email from darekhale . Stiles rolls his eyes. Of course if Derek was going to use technology, he would find the way to do it only used by senior citizens as grouchy as he is with the most boring username possible.

The reason it's in his spam folder becomes clear as he sees that it's just one big image. It has a cute drawing of a duck and simply says:

"I ducked up. I'm sorry."


End file.
